GUNS: The Spencer Book

by JA Huss

  Rook, she’s only got two strikes. One for being Rook, since everyone knows her from the news. And one for being perfect in every way. Rook is so perfect, she makes people want to gag. But they can’t. Because not only is she perfect, she’s sweet. Not a mean bone in that girl’s body. I’ve been doing my best to bitch her up a little, but she’s a terrible student. She’s polite and happy and she smiles. Like all the time. And since she and Ronin live in FoCo now too, we’re all just like one big happy family.

  Except I’m the odd one out since Spencer won’t acknowledge me.

  I unplug my earbuds and stuff them in my purse.

  “Hey, Ronnie!” Rook chimes as they approach. “Sorry I’m late, I had—”

  My phone rings and interrupts her. “Damn Spencer.” I silence the call and turn the ringer to vibrate. “Sorry, Rook.”

  Ashleigh’s dogs crawl under the table and one begins to pant on my ankle. The baby shoots me a gummy grin and I smile back. Babies are damn cute. I think Kate knocks off at least thirty-two points against Ashleigh, that’s how adorable she is. “Hi, Kate!” I beam. She squeals at me. Rook and Ash disappear to go order coffee and my phone vibrates on the table.

  Goddammit! I turn the ringer off, but a few seconds later the screen lights up with a text. Answer your fucking phone, Bomb!

  I weigh my options and then decide to ignore the next silent call. In fact, I throw that damn phone right into my skull-covered Betsey Johnson purse.

  The girls return and Rook chats us up about her new job as front door girl at the new Shrike Bikes showroom and garage. I glance out the window as she talks to get a visual of her in there being Miss Congeniality, but all I see is Spencer walking diagonally across the street. He’s got a mean look on his face. In fact, he looks pretty fucking pissed off. Rook is still talking to Ashleigh—about what, I have no idea—so I stand up, grab my purse, and bolt to the back of the cinema where the back door leads to an alley.

  It’s starting to rain outside, and there’s no way I’m gonna be able to run in high heels. So I slip my shoes off my feet and throw them in my purse. I start walking quickly down the alley, my bare feet splashing through puddles, and stepping on stones that make me wince. I look over my shoulder to see if anyone is coming after me and slam right into Spencer’s rock-hard chest.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Veronica? I’ve called and texted repeatedly, and you’ve ignored them all. When I gave you this job I told you you’re on call.”

  He’s got me by the wrists, and he’s squeezing kind of hard. “Spencer, goddammit, you’re hurting me, let go.” I struggle against him. He squeezes even harder, then lets go and pulls me into his chest. He wraps his arms around me. I can’t help myself, I give in.

  It’s starting to rain now and we’re both getting wet. The drops are dripping down his face and for once he’s got his sunglasses off and I can see his gray eyes as they crinkle with anger.

  He starts walking, forcing me to step backwards, stumbling a little as I go.

  “Spencer, what the fuck are you doing? You’re gonna make me fall!”

  He doesn’t let up, though. He keeps pushing and I keep stumbling backwards, his eyes still angry with me as I slam back against the brick wall of the building. He leans in close, his lips come towards my mouth and for a moment I fantasize that he’ll kiss me.

  But he never kisses me anymore. And he doesn’t now.

  “I’m only telling you once,” he says with a snarl. “You do what I say, Veronica. When I tell you something, you do it. When I send you a text, you answer it.” He stares hard into my eyes and his flash with anger, darting back and forth, making sure that I’m listening.

  His chest is pressing hard against mine, forcing me back against the uneven brick wall. Anger consumes me. How dare he? How dare he burst into my day and start making these demands like he owns me. It’s my turn to squint my eyes and look him dead on, the heat of my anger taking over.

  “Spencer Shrike, I might work for you but I’m not your property. And if you think that paying me a salary means you get to order me around like you’re the boss, you’ve got another think coming. And maybe, just maybe, I don’t need your fucking job. So if you think I’m going to put up with your—”

  His lips crush against mine and my knees just give out. I’m weak. Whenever he touches me I am so, so weak. The heat flushes through my body and I know if I looked in the mirror I’d be red all over. His tongue presses against mine. Searching, probing, looking for everything he just demanded—and I respond. Goddammit, I respond, giving him exactly what he wants. His hands come up and cup the side of my head, threading his fingers through my hair and around the back of my neck. He pulls me up towards his face, making me stand on my tiptoes to try to keep the connection between our mouths. I want to touch him back, thread my fingers through his hair and make him as crazy as he’s making me, but I can’t even think straight while he’s kissing me like this. When we come up for air, a fingertip traces along my jaw and the tip of my chin.

  “Veronica,” he whispers. “I am the motherfucking boss.” His hand slips between my legs and his fingers find my sweet spot through my jeans. Goddamn, this fucking man knows everything about me. He presses against my clit and then releases, making me moan. “Say it back to me, Bombshell. Who’s the motherfucking boss?”

  I whine out a no, but he just palms my whole pussy and leans in, whispering in my ear. “Say it, Bomb. Or I’ll take you right here in the fucking alley and prove it.”

  Oh, God, is that a promise?

  “Why?” I whisper back. “Why do you do this to me?” Suddenly my emotions take over and it all becomes too much. I’ve known this man years, I’ve slept with him hundreds of times at least. His paintbrush has caressed the most intimate places on my body. I fell in love with him the first day we met. There is no man on this earth I want more than Spencer Shrike.

  But…

  “I can’t do this anymore, Spencer. You’re killing me. Every day you play these games with me, you’re killing me. I can’t take it anymore. I quit. I quit this stupid fucking job and I quit this stupid nonexistent relationship.”

  His fingers fist in my hair, yanking hard enough to make me moan. He closes his eyes and looks down for a moment, letting out a long breath of air. And it’s only then that we realize it’s starting to rain hard. He grabs my hand and starts leading me up the stairs under the overhang of the building’s back door. He’s still holding my hand when we finally find shelter from the rain in the empty alcove. I try to pull it away, but he holds tight.

  “Please,” I beg. “Please, stop torturing me.” I want this man so bad it makes my heart ache inside my chest.

  “Bombshell, it’s more torturous for me than you will ever know.”

  “I don’t understand you, Spencer. I don’t understand. If you want me, just take me. I get it, you’re guilty.” He looks down when I say the word, but I’m tired of pretending that he didn’t admit to me last week that he was a killer. “Spencer, look at me.” I place my hand against his heart and push a little so that he sways backwards. “Why is it that Ronin trusts Rook, and hell, even Ford trusts Ashleigh, and they get to know all the secrets, but me, even though I’ve known you guys the longest, I get trusted with shit? I get nothing from you, Spencer. I’m no one to you. Why?”

  His eyes search mine again, only now they look… pained. Why is he so confusing? “Because, baby, I love you enough to push you away.”

  The tears well up as the words come out and I sniff as I wipe them away. “Well, you’re doing a really good job, because I am fucking out of here.” I go to push past him, but he swings me back around and presses me against the wall.

  “Just listen,” he says in a low throaty voice. “Look at me, Ronnie. Because I’m only gonna tell you this once.” He rocks his hips into mine, grinding his erection against me. And I am instantly flooding with wetness in anticipation. “I said fucking look at me.”

  I refocus, taking my attention away from the g
rowing need between my legs, and stare him in the eyes. His emotions are coming through more clearly than normal, and while Spencer has never been a man to hide behind a facade of indifference like Ford, he tries to keep things on an even keel. But right now everything he’s feeling… shows.

  He cares?

  And then, like he realizes I can see though him, he turns it off.

  “Baby,” he growls into my ear, “I’ll give you what you want right now. But you gotta work with me here, Ronnie. If I give you what you want, you give me what I want.”

  I look out into the curtain of rain which is the only thing between our growing desire and the cars on the street outside beyond the alley. He’s going to take me here, and he’s not going to care who sees us.

  “Tell me you want it,” he orders. “You know how I work.”

  I do know how he works. Spencer can make me come without ever touching me or uttering a single word. Because Spencer likes the details. Spencer wants to know everything I want, and he wants me to be crystal clear about it.

  Details like… “My pussy is tingling, Mr. Shrike,” I purr into his ear.

  He grinds against me harder now, his breath becoming labored and heavy. This drives me wild, and he knows it. His breath in my ear is a signal we’ve had since the beginning. A signal that says I’m ready for you, baby. Tell me everything. Tell me how you feel, tell me how I make you feel, tell me what you want, tell me how you want it.

  “I want it here, Mr. Shrike. Outside, in the alley. And I want it now.”

  His grinding intensifies even more now, and one hand reaches down to grab my ass while the other one unsnaps my jeans. “We might get caught, Bombshell,” he says in that reasonable tone he always gets when I’m the one doing the dirty talk.

  “We might,” I agree.

  “Mr. Harrison might open the donut shop door to throw out a bag of trash any second now.”

  “He could,” I concede again, but my zipper is loose and my pants are sliding down my hips before the words are fully formed.

  “Take me out, Veronica.”

  I unsnap his jeans and release his zipper just as quickly, then push his pants down just far enough for his hard cock to escape. My jeans are still around my hips and I let my arm drop so my purse can slide to the ground. My shoes fall out and one tumbles down the concrete stairs and lands in a puddle in the parking lot.

  Both of Spencer’s hands are reaching down inside my jeans so they can cup my bare ass and then suddenly he lifts me up. I bend my knees and raise my legs to give him access, pushing back against the uneven brick wall to keep me in position. He doesn’t pull my jeans down so my legs are only open enough to give his thick cock access. I rest my calves on his shoulders and even through his leather jacket I can feel the power in those muscles.

  Spencer is nothing but power.

  He’s gonna take me with no fanfare and no foreplay.

  But with Spencer, the sex is the foreplay. It’s not what he does, it’s how he does it. It’s not what he says, it’s how he says it. It’s not how I feel, it’s how he makes me feel.

  Spencer Shrike does not need to suck on my clit to get me ready. When I see him, I’m ready.

  “Take me like this,” I moan out in his ear. “Put your cock in me and just take me here, right now.”

  “Take you how, Bomb?” He eases his cock between my folds and I gasp as he pulls away. “Like this, soft and gentle?”

  “No,” I whine. “No. I want it hard. I want you to make me scream your name right now. I want to scream it so loud—” I lean in and purr in his ear in the softest of voices. “I want to scream your name so loud it’ll stop traffic out there on the street. And—” I have to bite my tongue and stop talking for a moment. It’s been so fucking long, I might make myself come.

  His dick flirts with my entrance and he’s holding me up one-handed now. My jeans are barely past my thighs, so I have to fight the urge to open my legs wide to invite him in. He’s pressing me against the wall so hard, for a moment I have a slight panic about being able to breathe. But he can read me better than anyone and the pressure on my chest eases up just as his cock thrusts inside me and his hand returns to my ass, holding me steady. The angle of my hips and the fact that my ankles are practically next to my head make his thrusts painful, but it’s the kind of pain girls fantasize about. Being filled up with the long hard cock of someone they love so much they spend every waking moment thinking of this.

  His grinding evens out and we find our rhythm, my back arching and pushing forward each time he pounds me backwards against the uneven brick wall, our breath heavy with desire and effort.

  I’m in ecstasy, I’m so close, even though his dick is nowhere near my clit, I don’t need that with Spencer. His smell is enough to set me off. The thick corded muscles of his upper arms as he strains to hold me steady and fuck me at the same time—that is enough.

  I’m about to explode when he pulls back and leans into my ear before I can whimper my protest. “Bombshell, listen carefully now, baby. Because I told you I was only gonna say it once, but sometimes it takes a good public fuck to make you hear me.”

  “Huh?” I’m all breathy and a little bit pissed that I’m not halting traffic from screaming his name right now.

  “I’m the boss of you, Bombshell.” He thrusts into me hard. Hard enough to hit the wall of my cervix and make me cry out in pain. “I’m the boss, aren’t I?” He thrusts again and this time is even more painful, but at the same time, I can feel the orgasm building again. “Answer me, dammit,” he says as he pulls out, leaving me empty and wanting.

  “Yes, OK. You’re the boss, Mr. Shrike.” Just keep the fuck going!

  He chuckles. “Good, baby. That’s perfect.” He eases back into me, softer this time. Slow, controlled back-and-forth movements that only make me ache for more.

  “Harder, please,” I beg.

  “Now,” he says through his heavy breath. “You’re gonna be a good girl and do what I say, right?” He punctuates each word with a thrust and retreat.

  I just nod. Hell, I’ll agree to anything right now. I haven’t been fucked since New Year’s and that one I can’t even remember. So it hardly counts.

  “And what I want you to do is…” He leans into me, pushes himself as deep inside me as he can get and I swear, even though my eyes are open, everything goes black. My world is nothing but those little fuzzy stars you see just before you have the orgasm of a lifetime. His cock pulses inside me and he tugs on my hair and moans along with his explosion. His cock pulses over and over again inside me, his hot semen shooting out.

  I push back, on the verge of something truly spectacular…

  And then he pulls out and backs off, no longer supporting my legs so they drop to the ground.

  “What the fuck?” I ask as his come spills down my thigh and collects against my jeans.

  He pulls my pants up and then his own.

  I’m stunned. “I was just about to scream your name.”

  Never—and I do mean never—has Spencer used sex against me. He’s never been one of those guys to withhold orgasm to make a point. Until now, apparently.

  “I told you,” he says as he tucks his partially erect cock back into his jeans. “I’m the motherfucking boss of you, Bombshell. And I am not fucking around this time.” He leans in, all the fun dirty talk forgotten. His orgasm forgotten. The flirty banter forgotten. “When I call that fucking phone, you fucking answer it!”

  He’s not behaving normally and this sets me back a minute as I try to button and zip my jeans back up. “I never got any calls, Spencer. Calm down.”

  He shoots me a nasty look. “You’re a shit liar, Veronica. I can tell every time. You crinkle your nose when you lie.”

  “Do not. And what the fuck? Is this how you play now? You take what you want from me and once you’ve had your fill, you just leave me hanging? You’re a total asshole. Especially after you said you never wanted to see me again. Only texts and phones.”

 
He stares hard at me for a moment, his breath still labored from the sex. “I never said that, Ronnie. I said we only need to communicate with texts and phone calls.”

  I pick my purse up from the ground beside me, fish around and find my pack of e-cigs, and start puffing. Spencer drives me to puff. “What’s the difference?” I say through a thick stream of vapor. “And if that’s all you want from me, then why this… this… what the fuck was this fuck? I don’t even have a word for it, you asshole!” I’m so upset with how this has turned out, I might cry right here, right now, in front of him.

  “Ronnie, I need a place in town.” He says this like… like… like he didn’t just fuck me in an alley and leave me wanting like a worthless whore. “Your job this week is to find me a place to live in town.”

  “What?” His words make my heart flutter and I have to place my hand against my chest to collect myself. “But… the farmhouse?” I’ve always pictured my life being lived out on that farm. Always. Since the day I met him three years ago, that’s been my happily ever after and now he wants to sell it. I turn away and place my head against the wall.

  It’s over. My fantasy life with Spencer Shrike is over.

  His strong hands grab my shoulders and turn me back around. “I’m not selling the farmhouse, Bombshell. Never. I just need a nice place to crash in town. That drive is killing me. So look around and find me something good. Set me up some appointments, and then text them to me.”

  “Oh.” I’m hopeful again. “Do you want me to meet you there when you look?”

  “No, babe. Just me.”

  Now I’m deflated. See, this is why I need to avoid him at all costs. He deflates me. He sucks all my air out. He collapses me into nothingness. I look down at my feet and concentrate on not being sad.

  “And the next time I call or text, you answer. OK?”

  When I look up he’s already walking away and I’m feeling more used and dejected than ever.

  “Spencer!” I call after him, desperate for one more interaction. “What’s the budget?”